On the way into the club, Iron Man played on the radio. This set me in a great head space for the night, not because of the words of the song, I really don’t know any besides I am Iron Man, but because it was a song I played a lot in High School Pep and Marching Band. I love music, but I am not a good musician, I played clarinet, but was almost always third part. And I loved it. I loved being a part of it, of sharing music with my friends and with other people. It was a place where I knew perfection was not attainable, and I was happy. I worked hard, and it was enough, even when I made mistakes, it was enough that I was doing the best I could.

A friend is an English teacher, and today he posted on that he would have given a student 100% if that were possible, but was giving her 99.9% instead. I commented, asking why 100% was not possible. He replied that perfection is impossible, and while her essay was so very good, especially in comparison to the rest of the class, there were still imperfections in it, and that there is always room for improvement.

My goal, is, when I’m feeling judgmental of myself or others, to remind myself that they are doing the best they can, and perfection is impossible.